


The World Was Big Enough

by agirlmustwrite



Category: Hamilton - Miranda, TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Character Death, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Hamilton inspired, M/M, Mild Gore, Not A Fix-It, sorta - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-02
Updated: 2016-08-02
Packaged: 2018-07-28 20:54:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7656361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agirlmustwrite/pseuds/agirlmustwrite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The last moments of The Battle of the Five Armies through the eyes of the last of Durin's heirs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The World Was Big Enough

**Author's Note:**

> I'm kinda in a rut. This just kinda popped into my head after listening to the Hamilton Soundtrack for the bagilionith time. So have fun! And please comment!   
>  Italicized= song lyrics (I tweeked them, as you will see, so please don't freak out)  
> Disclaimer: Tolkien is a God. I'm but a mere mortal, training to be a ranger. Jk, I'm lazy af, I cant be a ranger. :P

_One two three four five six seven eight nine._

 

He counted. He counted every labored breath gave out. Anything to distract from the blinding pain blossoming in his ghastly wounds. He lay on the ice surface, his body shivering from the biting ground and the loss of blood. But he still counted.

 

_One two three four_

 

His vision began coming out of focus as the pain becoming numbing. His squeezed his eyes tightly as he choked out more breaths

Five six seven eight

And when he opened them, he saw nothing but white.

 

_Nine._

 

Suddenly, he was no longer on the battlements. His clothing no longer blood soaked, and he no longer felt the raw pain. He brought himself up with ease. No pain shot through him. Just confusion as he stated into the infinite landscape of white.

I thought crossed his mind, and he was almost disappointed. Surely the gates of Mahal would actually have gates.

  
_I imagine death so much it feels more like a memory_ _  
_ _Is this where it gets me, on my feet, sev’ral feet ahead of me?_

 

Suddenly a flash of his battle conjured in his mind. Of his fight with Azog, of him defeating the Defiler, but at what cost?

  
_I saw it coming, do I get up or let it be?_ _  
_ _There is no beat, no melody_ _  
_ _Azog, my first foe, my enemy_ _  
_ _Maybe the last face I ever see_ _  
_ _He's dead several feet away from me, is this how Durin’s folk remember me?_   
What if this madness is my legacy?

 

Even without the gold sickness coasting through his veins, he had been mad. Careless. Driven by pure hatred for the creature that had stolen his kin from him too many times. And had he'd been truly left this life, he would forever be remembered as the fool king who was slaughtered in his own fit of rage. He had no heirs, no legacy. The madness of his pitiful reign and his last stand was his only legacy.  
  
_Legacy. What is a legacy?_ _  
_ _It’s planting seeds in a garden you never get to see_ _  
_ _I wrote some notes at the beginning of a song someone will sing for me_ _  
_ _Erebor, you great unfinished symphony, you sent for me_ _  
_ _You let me make a difference_ _  
_ _A place where even orphan exiled princes_   
Can leave their fingerprints

 

Images of an acorn flashed in front of him. Images of the ruins **he** could've used as foundations for rebuilding. Images of gold **he** could've used to keep promises. His head swam with the endless possibilities of what he had, and he cradled his head as they come with an unwanted flood of shame. They reminded him of what could have been. What he could've been, had he'd only not been so blind. Had he'd only taken the time to see what was in front of him instead of wasting it on a stone, he could've had more time to build a legacy of his own

 

 _and rise up_ _  
_ _I’m running out of time. I’m running, and my time’s up_   
Wise up. Eyes up

 

He took a shaky breath, before he opened his eyes and lifted his head. Suddenly the best blankness begins to shimmer sway like a mirage, and he catches a glimpse of phantoms.

 _  
_ _I catch a glimpse of the other side_

 

The first is a dwarf he never thought he'd see again. His brother gave him a wave as he stood in front of all their fallen battle brothers. He rushed over to his brother, who holds out his arms to offer an embrace. But as soon as he made it to him, he faded away like mist. Before the shock could register, he heard the rumble of chorused soldiers, singing the song of the Blue Mountains.  


_Frerin leads a warriors’ chorus on the other side_

 

Another gold haired dwarf rushes past him, and he follows him with his eyes as he rushes to embrace a burnett dwarf. They then both turn to him, and he feels his heart break as they smile cheerfully at them. He had failed both his sister's sons.

 _  
_ _Fili is on the other side_   
He’s with his brother on the other side

 

He felt a warm hand grasp his shoulder, and he turned behind. His breath caught in his throat, and he choked a sob. The figure was walking away from him, but his presence and the squeeze that still lingered on his shoulder told him exactly who it was.

 _  
_ _My father is watching from the other side_   


As Thrain walked past him, he scrambled to reach for him. To ask him for his guidance. To see his face one last time.

 _  
_ _Teach me how to say goodbye_

 

As his father faded, he twisted his _head,_ trying to find someone.  Anyone. Anything to help him in this madness. To help him move on. To go back. To do something. To _  
___  
Rise up, rise up, rise up

 

The chanting in his head grew louder and louder, till he sworn he could see the words painted across this blank realm. He covered his ears and closed his eyes as the haunting mantra played across this reality.

 

_Rise up, rise up, rise up_

 

His eyes snapped open, and he was no longer in the odd blank realm. The pain was back, as was the biting ground. But something new was there.

He no longer saw white. He saw tearfully eyes and copper colored locks. He felt a hand firmly grasp his as the creature looked down at him, the light of the sun making him look Mahal sent.

_Bilbo_

 

His burglar. His hobbit. His dear friend. His One.

Of all the regrets he had…. Of all the things he could've done… He should've done. He shouldn't have done….

Of all the mistakes he made…. At least he would still live to see his Bag End.

 _  
_ _My love, take your time_   
I’ll see you on the other side

He gave his Bilbo one last smile, before the chorus of his fallen comrades beckoned him. He counted his breaths once more, before he looked up and joined their song.

 _  
_ _Far over...The Misty Mountains cold…_

 

_One two three four five six seven eight nine_

  
“.....Thorin?”

**Author's Note:**

> Every single comment goes to the "Give a Girl a Soul Foundation." For you see, I have no soul, but with your constructive criticism or kudos, I gain a remnant of a soul. So with your help, you can help change the life in soulless demon like myself.  
> (Disclaimer:that whole spewl above was a load of crap, I'm just a masochist who thrives on criticism. So please help me out! Thank you! :D)


End file.
